


Trick of the Moonlight

by ariel2me



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-05
Updated: 2012-11-05
Packaged: 2017-11-18 01:12:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/555232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariel2me/pseuds/ariel2me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One-shot Stannis POV. When Stannis told Davos to sail to White Harbor to treat with Wyman Manderly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trick of the Moonlight

“Your Grace?”

“It would seem that saving the kingdom from the wildlings is not enough to help me win the throne after all”.

His Hand looked down, averting his gaze. That surprised him. He had not meant the words as a rebuke, they were merely the truth.

“Of course coming here was the only thing to do. It is my duty, as the rightful king.” He finally said, after a long, long silence. Davos looked up, finally looking him in the eyes. The Hand of the King seemed … uncomfortable. Hesitant. Wary. Stannis struggled to find the right word. _Is he still thinking of Alester Florent?_ He sighed. Davos stared at him, brows furrowed, but mercifully stayed silent.

 _Must we go through it again? Davos knew why the burning was necessary._ Davos had been present during the chaotic scene at the Painted Table, when he told the assembled lords and knights of the plan to sail to the Wall. There had been very little appetite for another battle, especially one so far North. He had done what had to be done, so that he would have men to bring to the Wall, and defeat the wildlings. 

Alester Florent had screamed, long and loud. Davos had watched with an impassive expression, but Stannis could guess what was in his mind. _“Did I save that boy only for another man to be burned?”_ His patience snapped. _Why does my Onion Knight not see that it is not the same thing? Alester Florent was a traitor, who would have sold me to the Lannisters, who offered my daughter as a hostage to them. Whether I take his head or offer him to the Red God is immaterial; he signed his own death warrant when he wrote that letter._

 _And yet_ , a voice whispered in his head, _you were ready to burn the boy too. An innocent boy who never offered your daughter as a hostage to anyone_ , _but was her playmate._

 _But I didn’t. I came to the Wall instead_ , he insisted. And yet he knew how hollow those words were. _I would have, if not for my lord Hand._

“Lord Snow claimed I must have White Harbor’s allegiance if I am to have any gold. To fund the war, to pay your pirate friend.” He rushed out the words, to drown out the words in his head. 

He watched incredulously as Davos started smiling. _I have not seen him smile in a long, long while_ , he thought. Not since the wildfire took his sons. _Not since my war took four of them._

“I fail to see why my words amused you so, Lord Davos.”

“Forgive me, Your Grace. But it seems that Lord Commander Snow is more than just a stubborn boy who haggles like a fishwife after all. His advice is proving to be valuable to Your Grace.”

He barked out an involuntary laugh. It seemed to shock Davos, as much as Davos’ smile earlier had shocked him. They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, across the years, across the divide, across all the dead sons and the burning men. He thought of faith, of doubts, and of faith restored. And then broken again. He envisioned a rope, frayed and worn, yet still durable. It would take a very long time for it to fray into nothingness. Yet, there could be a faultline, unobserved to the naked eyes, and the rope would just snap one day, if you pull too hard from opposite directions. The thought saddened him immeasurably.

He saw it already in Davos’ eyes; the weariness, the longing for home. The uncertainty and the doubt, raising its head again. _And yet I must ask this of you, because there is no one else._ No one else he trusted as much, depended on as much.

“Lord Snow is Lord Eddard Stark’s son after all. It is only to be expected that he has information about all the Northern lords. It would be very ignorant and negligent of him otherwise.

“Has Lord Manderly replied to Your Grace’s letter? He has no love for the Boltons, I heard from the Black Brothers. One of his sons was slain at the Red Wedding. And with the Lannisters appointing Ramsay Bolton the Warden of the North, his fealty should lie with Your Grace.”

That was bitter news indeed. “Apparently even _that_ is not enough for him to bend his knee to me. His letter spoke of nothing except his old age and his infirmity.”

The silence stretched out. He waited, watching Davos trying to choose his words carefully.

“It could be that Lord Manderly is weary of all the fighting and the deaths, Your Grace.” He spoke so softly, Stannis had to strain his ears to hear him.

“There are always deaths in war, Lord Davos.” He did not recognize his own voice, it sounded so foreign.

“Of course, Your Grace. I did not mean …”

He steeled himself, and interrupted. “If he does not mean to come to me, then I will send for him. You will go to White Harbor and treat with him. With Salladhor Saan’s fleet as proof of our strength. I must show him that I am not a man to be trifled with.”

“Salla is already making noises about his gold, Your Grace. I do not know if …”

“Tell him he will have his gold, the ones I owed him and more, when White Harbor has sworn loyalty to me.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

He searched Davos’ face. “I need White Harbor, my Onion Knight. Will you bring it to me?”

“I am your man, Your Grace.”


End file.
